


Broken Dynamics

by Feral_Fic_Writer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, Dehumanization, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rehumanization (eventually), Trans Character- Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Fic_Writer/pseuds/Feral_Fic_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester has never had his sons tested to determine their dynamics. Why would he, when it's so obvious... Right? </p><p>In a universe where an omega's status varies from state to state, from free and equal to nothing more than chattel, this oversight will cost John and his boys more than any of them could have ever imagined.</p><p>Starts with Dean age 12, Sam 8 and will skip forward in time from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Bad to Worse

John hated shopping.

Normally he would have made Dean do it, but the boy had picked a bug up somewhere, or, given the state of the last dive they’d eaten in on their way into town, maybe it was food poisoning. Though normally Dean had a cast-iron gut.

Whatever it was that had the kid down, he just hoped it wasn’t going to end up forcing a doctor’s visit.

It was hard to tell with Dean sometimes how much something hurt him. A small swell of pride welled within John at his twelve-year old son’s alpha stoicism. That Dean also didn’t like being fussed over when he was feeling low; well, that was another trait he'd had been grateful for, more than once in their times on the road.

His sense today, however, was that whatever had gotten a hold of Dean was going to keep him down for a bit. The boy had been bright with fever that morning and so ill, even his scent was off.

Standing in the snack row looking at saltines, he cursed how many different kinds there were: whole wheat, gluten free, low salt… All he needed was something Dean could keep down and  settle his stomach.

If Sam hadn’t been an omega, John might have sent him on this kind of errand. But even in the most promega states, he would have been reluctant to let his eight-year old go anywhere on his own. Here in Arkansas, however, which offered virtually no omega protections; in a backwater drip of a town like this, even with his youngest pierced and wearing both a family collar and a “promised” one for protection, there was no way Sam was going anywhere on his own.

John’s _I hate shopping_ thoughts and their accompanying _the trials and truths of an omega son_ were cut off by the buzz of his cell. He pulled it from his pocket, frowning when he saw the number of Dean’s trac-phone on the screen.

“Dean…”

“Sorry, Alpha, it’s Sammy…”

John winced unconsciously at the omega-apologetics that filled his youngest son’s voice.

“What’s going on Sam? You know that you’re not supposed to call. And Dean’s only supposed to use this phone if there’s an emergency.”

It might have sounded like a harsh rule for some, but as much as they traveled, John didn’t want Sam getting any habits that might put him in jeopardy. And lot of people didn’t think that omegas should have anything to do with technology; at least not any more than a tracking collar with a body temperature and heartbeat sensor, to alert an omega’s “keepers” if their “ward” was lost or in heat.

Not only that, but while Sam had thankfully bonded to Dean as his main familial alpha, the way the kid needed continual reassurance, John was sure that Sam would have called constantly if permitted.

“I know, Alpha. I’m sorry. Dean told me not to, too. But he’s so sick…”

John suddenly felt bad for his earlier unkind thoughts towards his youngest: it must have been really hard for Sam to call in the first place, knowing that he was going against two different alpha's orders.

“Alpha, please come home. Dean’s on the floor in the bathroom and he can’t get up. Please, Daddy. I’m really scared.”

Dean had stopped calling him “Daddy” when he was four and as far as John was concerned, there was no need to go breaking tradition. Omega or no, he didn’t cotton to Sam acting infantilized, not like many alphas did. However, the distress in Sam’s voice twisted his guts to the extent he didn’t have the heart to really get after him for the title.

“Hush, Pup.” His growl brought an instant halt to the unconscious whines that had filled the space between Sam’s words. Cart abandoned in the middle of the aisle, he was already almost to the store’s entrance.

“Sammy, you need to stay with me, Sweetheart.” John had never been one for endearments, but he knew he needed to soothe his youngest, and at this distance, stroking Sam verbally was the best tool he had.

On the other end of the phone, he heard Sam sniffle and pull in a deep breath. “Okay, Alpha… but please hurry.”

“I’m coming fast as I can. Are you near Dean right now, Sammy?”

“No… I’m in the main room. I had to get the phone from his jeans.”

“Right. You did good there, Son. Now, I want you to go sit next to your brother.” Even as bad off as it sounded like Dean was, John knew that both boys would benefit from the proximity, given the sibling bond they shared.

He could hear Sam moving around, immediately minding his sire alpha’s orders. He’d just reached the Impala when Sam spoke again.

“Alpha…”

He couldn’t tell, if his youngest was speaking to him or Dean. But what he was able to discern, even over their cheap cells, was the unmistakable sound of Dean groaning. John’s heart leapt into triple time. Even in the midst of and after his eldest’s most punishing training sessions, Dean had never once sounded like this.

"Sammy…”

When Sam answered, John could tell the boy was crying.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Is Dean conscious?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Put the phone to his ear, Sam, and let me talk to him.”

John waited a tic, engine of the Impala revving as he pulled out of the lot.

“Dean, Son… can you hear me?”

In the seconds of silence that passed, John had become almost certain that Dean wasn’t going to be able to answer. When his oldest boy’s weak voice finally did, he suddenly found himself wishing that he hadn’t. Dean’s words dropped his stomach harder and faster that any supernatural nasty he had ever encountered.

“Burning… Dad… Stomach hurts… Something wrong… Slick… Please… Need you… Need... Alpha.”

John threw the phone away from him fast enough, one might have thought he’d suddenly found himself holding the devil’s dick in his hand. Accelerator to the floor he tore off to the hotel, fuck any posted speed limit.

His mind raced faster than the Impala’s engine as he sped there. There was no way what Dean said… What it sounded like he was saying… No way in hell this was happening!

Dean and Sam had been born in a promega state, one that didn’t force mandatory gender readings prenatally or at birth like some other states did. Mary, beautiful omega that she was, didn’t want her children tested, she’d wanted them to unfurl themselves naturally, and John never contested that.

After her death, taking his boys on the road with him, it didn’t really cross his mind again to ever think of having them tested. Both seemed so clear on their dynamics there was no reason to. He just marked them as he’d discerned them on whatever forged documents he needed, if the state they were in demanded it, and one had ever questioned his designations.

Of course, it bothered him some that Sam was so obviously omega. No way it could be otherwise, though.

He’d gotten wind of it the first time he watched his sons wrestling and Sammy went so easily and immediately belly up under his brother, baby throat bared.

And it was Sam who wanted to wear his hair longer, was so fastidious about staying clean. Sam who didn’t like moving around; who only wanted to eat vegetables; and who’d always choose sitting in a corner reading, over training.

The boy had even asked to get his ears pierced at five without having any understanding of just what the loops would be signifying.

John had reluctantly acquiesced and that was when the collars had gone on too, as much as he hated to do it. It was just too dangerous otherwise for Sam, for the whole family, in fact, for him to be moving through the world so obviously presenting omega and unmarked.

If it wasn’t for the boys’ bond, he would have left Sam with someone more equipped to care for him, but neither of his sons did well without the other. And for the most part, Dean made his parenting of Sam pretty easy.

A fist grabbed John’s heart at this thought. _It still can't be possible._

So, Dean looked after Sam, but it wasn’t in that motherly, touchy-feely, omega way. He was good with his little brother, but he was hard on him too. Kept Sam in line and hungry for affection. And John could never remember Dean coddling, it just wasn’t in him.

_No, there's just no way Dean was…_

He couldn’t even bring himself to think it. Sure his boy was obedient to him almost to a fault, but he was also the perfect soldier. Dean had a steel spine when it came to danger. And just two months past his twelfth birthday, he took licks that would make men twice his age cry like a baby.

_Just turned twelve…_

Another wave of panic crashed over John. _The timing… Fuck… It fit perfectly_. He shook the thought away as he was hit with everything he stood to lose if his fear turned out to be true.

_Don’t think about that now… the boys... Dean, needs you._

Into the lot, out of the car. He’d just reached the top of the stairs to their level when the scent hit him.

John covered his nose with his sleeve and coughed. The smell only got stronger as he neared their door. To him it was godawful, full of sulphur and dead things. But nature had designed omega pheromones that way. Any omega offspring who shared his blood would have a heat scent that would naturally turn his stomach. It was supposed to deter family alphas from inbreeding.

Unfortunately, given the potency of it, John could only imagine how sweet the scent that filled the air would be to any other nearby, un-related alpha.

He keyed open the door and threw all the locks behind him. His eyes watered and he told himself it was just because of how thick the smell was in here, not for any other reason. Now in the room he hesitated, all the while damning his cowardice, knowing his worst fears had just shifted from possibility to fact.

He didn’t want to see Dean, not in this state, not now, not ever. But then he heard the pitiful moaning coming from the bathroom, and Sam’s tearful, “Daddy?… Alpha, is that you?”

Instincts to protect kicking in, he squared his shoulders and pushed himself forward.

But fuck it was a mess.

Sam sat on the floor, Dean’s head in his lap. He’d had the sense to put a cold cloth on Dean’s forehead, not that this was doing any good.

The thin tee-shirt Dean wore was soaked all but transparent with sweat. The boy’s shorts were equally drenched and a puddle of slick pooled on the tiles around slender hips. And it was impossible for John to not to see how dark his son’s adolescent dick was, purpled with blood, erection straining the wet fabric of his boxers.

Sammy petted Dean’s head, his shoulders shaking, hiccupping with sobs. John reached out and set a large hand gently on his omega son’s crown. A low worried keen bubbled up in Sam’s chest, even as he pushed up into his hand.

“Shhhh, Sammy, you did good, Baby. Daddy alpha’s proud of you, Son.”

Large hazel eyes flickered up at him, their expression so innocent and earnest it broke his heart. The volume of Sam’s whine dropped considerably.

“Sammy, I need you to be strong for me, okay?”

Wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, Sam nodded.

“You get cold water running in the bath. Then I need you to go get our med kit from the closet.”

Sam was up and moving in an instant, doing better already to have someone directing him.

As soon as the water was running, John started stripping Dean down. Every inch of his son’s skin was on fire. Fighting not to retch as the scent of Dean’s first heat increased with his nakedness, John averted his eyes. He was made doubly uncomfortable when Dean shifted shaking fingers to cover his furious erection.

Scooping Dean up carefully, the heat of the lean body in his arms seared through John's clothes. Every time he touched his son, Dean fought to stifle a whimper. The sound of it, of his proud _alpha_ boy whining like a pup, literally took his feet out from under him and he found himself backing up, sitting down hard on the toilet.

Peering down at his son's grimacing face, concerned that Dean had already bitten his lips bloody trying to keep from crying out, he brushed a broad thumb over Dean’s bottom lip, trying to tease it out.

“Easy, Dean, it’s okay.”

His words were cut short however, when these same bloody lips sucked his thumb into a hot mouth and John felt his boy's tongue begin to worry it. Even worse than this though, was when Dean’s green eyes shot open, realizing himself, just what he’d done and catching his expression.

John found his thumb released immediately. Dean almost tumbled to the floor, breath coming in huge rasping pants as he tried to struggle away from him.

Alpha arms clamped down and John held Dean tight, until he stopped struggling. He took Dean’s sharp chin in his hand and turned his face to him.

“Alpha… I… I’m so sorry...” The look of anguish on his son's face pulled a sorrow up in John he hadn’t felt since the day he’d lost Mary.

Dean didn’t have any more words to offer, he just dropped his eyes and began sobbing brokenly. Not that he needed words.

John knew his son, how Dean worked, that no matter how miserable he felt physically in this moment, he was feeling even worse for letting him down by this betrayal of biology… Disappointing his alpha.

It was a very omega instinct, and John could have kicked his own ass in this moment for just how blind he’d been.

He wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, pulled his son in closer to him. Despite how bad Dean smelled to him, John shifted him in his arms and brought Dean’s face right up under his jaw where his scent was likely to be strongest. Because while nature made blood omegas stink to family alphas, cruel bitch that she was, she’d hadn’t returned the favor to omegas: an alpha smelled like an alpha, smelled like an alpha.

He’d read somewhere that this was so family omegas would pursue and family alphas rebuff, eventually driving the omegas out to mate with unrelated alphas. None of this mattered shit to him in this moment. He just wanted Dean to feel better.

John looked up from the broken boy is his arms to his other omega son, standing silently in the doorway. Sam’s expression was strangely solemn. He figured it was likely because Sam had never seen Dean break down... Ever.

Nodding Sam in, John stood with Dean in his arms and moved over to the tub. He settled Dean in the cold water, and unpeeled his arms off him. He kept one hand on a bony shoulder.

Dean sat silent now, eyes fixed on the water beneath him.

John pulled a bottle from the med kit and shook out a couple strong tranquilizers. Then he began rooting through the bag looking for suppressants.

“There aren’t any.”

John glanced over at Dean, shocked at how small his son's voice sounded.

Dean kept his eyes averted, a shiver coursed through his lean frame. “You used the last of the su….” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, “…'them' at Garland, the _Wolves’ Den_. Remember?”

Arkansas was famous, as many of the lower middle states were, for being a hold out for the old ways. In addition to state sanctioned inequality, big omega breeding farms still throve here subsidized by other states that had much more rigorous regs now for what was politely referred to as “omega surrogacy.”

That _Wolves' Den_ hunt had revealed that a small were/omega breeding farm, not an angry spirit, had been the cause of a rash of omega adolescent disappearances. Once the werewolves had been put down, the dozen captive omega teens, half of them in induced heats, had needed to be dealt with.

“Right…” John had just found the empty bottle and was damning himself for not getting more. Not easy to do, however, in a state where anything that altered omega biology for the better was illegal.

“Sammy, get me a glass of water.”

Sam stepped over to the sink and unwrapped one of the plastic cups the hotel provided. He filled it and passed it over.

“Take these,” Jon set the tranquilizers in one of Dean’s hands. "They’ll put you to sleep. I know it’s not healthy, but you can at least be unconscious through the worst of it. Sam and I will get packed up. We’re heading to Bobby’s.”

South Dakota wasn’t the best state for omegas but there was more a "mind your business and I’ll mind mine" attitude when it came to personal arrangements. Besides, Bobby’s was the closest thing to a home either of his sons had known in years, and John knew he was going to need some time for a major regrouping.

He offered the cup to Dean, trying not to notice the little scooting motions his boy was making in the tub, his heated hole obviously anxious for attention.

Dean took the pills without question, but thirty seconds later was leaning over the side of the tub, retching, his body wanting nothing to do with any fluid that didn’t come from an alpha. John could see the surface of the water turn oily with slick as his son convulsed.

Thin arms hugged a flat stomach and Dean rolled over onto his side in the tub with a pitiful moan.

“Sammy.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“I want you to go out in the other room and gather up all our things. I know you like to pack stuff neat, like, but we don’t have time for that.”

Sam's light-brown head nodded in understanding.

“I want you to get everything and set it by the door. Take the sheets off the beds too, we’re taking them with us. I want you to tear the flat ones up into strips, about yea wide.”

The water in the tub splashed loudly, Dean had heard his father’s directions and knew what was coming.

“Alpha…”

John cut Dean off. “Go do that for Daddy, Sammy. And know how proud I am of how good you’re gonna do. Close the door on your way too, okay, Baby.”

As soon as Sam was out of the room, Dean whimpered, “Please, Alpha… No… I promise, I can be good.”

“You are good, Dean.” John soothed. He set a hand on Dean’s head and his heart hurt, feeling the hesitant push into the touch. It made him realize just how seldom he’d shown Dean any tenderness and he suddenly wondered if that was why his boy trained so hard: that punishing physicality was better than no touch at all. He pushed these thoughts away to deal with the moment.

“But we’ve got twelve-plus hours in the car to get to Bobby’s and have to cross three old-rule states. I’m not stopping unless I absolutely have to. As much as he hates it, even your little brother’s gonna’ find himself pissing into a bottle on this trip.”

“I’m sorry, Son, there’s no room for argument on this. You’re getting swaddled and that’s that.”

John saw the tremble take hold of his son. He knew Dean was claustrophobic, result of a hunt gone bad a few years back. Being shut up in a coffin and buried alive at the tender age of nine would have had that effect on most anybody. John only hoped today, with his boy’s biology making its presence known, being bound up to the point of immobility would have a positive effect.

Swaddling was a time tested remedy for heated omegas without mates. Of course they had to be in a safe environment to take that kind of risk, but it wasn’t like they weren’t already vulnerable in their heats. Done, right, wrapping punched all an omega’s pressure triggers, made them feel held, like they would be by their alpha after being knotted.

It was the only option John saw. He wasn’t going to risk staying here with Dean like this, they didn’t have necessary omega provisions, he couldn’t leave his boys alone to get them… He was so unprepared for this. And he wasn't going to have Dean writhing in the back seat for twelve hours straight.

“And remember, you’ll be sleeping. And I promise, as soon as we’re on the road, I’ll call my contacts and get a line on where we can pick up some suppressants for you on the way.”

Dean’s gaze was fixed on the pills dissolving on the bathroom floor. “What if I can’t get the pills down.”

The way his boy’s fists were clenching and unclenching, John could tell Dean was struggling so hard not to touch himself.

He knew there was a way he could get the pills into Dean. One that would help ease him in more ways than one, in fact. John just didn’t know if he could do it.

A low keen slipped from Dean, and John’s nostrils burned at a spike in the Sulphur scent in the room. He leaned down and picked the water cup up off the side of the tub, moved over to the bathroom door, and locked it.

“Touch yourself, Dean.” He used his alpha voice on his son in an entirely new way for the first time.

John kept his back to the tub, but he could hear the water splash, and Dean pant as he instantly obeyed the order.

Despite the terrible smell, the sounds of an omega, wringing pleasure from itself, made his cock jump. John opened his fly and pulled himself out, matching the pace of his own strokes to those of his son. It made his stomach twist to do it, but John knew this was the only sure way to make things easier on both of them right now.

Though in his mind it seemed to take forever, John’s dick spurted sooner than he thought it would. He caught this in the cup he held; he swirled his come around to try and mix it with the remaining water.

Tucking himself back in, he grabbed two more pills from the bottle and turned back to Dean. The boy was lying on his side again, head resting uncomfortably on the back edge of the tub. His lean sides heaved; long lashes blinked with weary distress. Dean still had one hand wrapped around his cock, the other tucked behind him with a finger lodged in his ass.

John hoped to god that heat blur was a true phenomenon, because Dean wouldn’t be able to live with himself afterwards, knowing his dad had seen him like this. Nor would Dean have ever be able to bear, what John was about to do to him.

“Dean, I want you to try and take those pills again.”

Kneeling down, John pulled Dean’s hands away, despite his son’s soft huffs of protest. He held the cup to Dean’s mouth and was stunned at the fact that not only did he immediately start swallowing as soon as the pills had been placed on his tongue and the seeded-water hit his mouth, but the boy drank it up eagerly, a light whine catching in his throat when the cup was empty.

Of course it made sense: it didn’t matter how an omega ingested alpha semen, and that was the only thing that could truly take the edge off of a heat.

John pulled the drain plug before Dean slipped down any further into the tub with the exhaustion of relief and drowned himself. He turned the shower on next to try and wash away all the slick from the bathwater sticking to Dean’s skin. When he shut the water off finally, Dean was unconscious and John could hear the muffled sounds of sheets tearing in the other room through the closed door.

 

* * *

It took three trips to load the Impala: two for their things and one for Dean.

John knew he was taking a risk putting Dean to sleep. This was likely to make this first heat last longer or his next one burn brighter, but he didn’t care. Wrapping Dean up had been a breeze with the boy unconscious.

He lowered Dean into the car and strapped him into the back seat next to Sam. Once again, he was amazed at how calm his first omega son had been ever since he’d arrived back at the hotel. Even now, after pulling Dean over towards him enough that he could pet his sleeping brother’s hair, Sam just sat quietly.

John suddenly wondered how Dean smelled to Sam. Different than he did to him obviously, given how the boy responded. After shutting the door, he moved around to the trunk for one last look at their gear, the whole time he was loading something had bothered him.

Peering into the back, he suddenly realized what was missing. He didn’t see the small black duffle that held his consecrated blades, his collection of talismans, and his journal.

Moving around to Sam’s window he tapped on it and waited as Sam rolled it down.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Sammy, you did a really good job with all the packing, but I have to ask you an important question. Did you put my 'special' bag in one of our other ones?”

“No, Alpha… You and Dean told me I wasn’t allowed to touch it.”

“Yeah, that's our normal rule, Sam. But are you sure? I know I told you to pack in a hurry. Maybe you grabbed it without thinking and tucked in another bag. If you did, Son, I won’t be mad. I promise.”

If the situation hadn't been so dire, John might have laughed at how Sam’s young forehead furrowed as he thought. Then hazel eyes widened in remembrance.

“Dean made me stay in the bathroom this morning before he got so sick. He was acting kind of funny, Daddy, said he needed to put some things away and he didn’t want me to see.”

John wanted face palm but he held himself in check.

Of course Dean hid it. Mary used to do the same thing with all her “prized possessions" and important documents before she went into a heat. Not every omega did this, but it was an ancient trait that happened sometimes without the omega even being conscious of what they were doing.

It was a way of keeping significant things safe once the heat struck and an omega didn’t have his or her same faculties. It also preserved things if the den was invaded by unknown alphas during this time of vulnerability.

So it made perfect sense Dean would hide his sire's bag. Outside their regular weapons it was the most important thing they owned.

Sam glanced over at his sleeping brother briefly and then turned his gaze back to his father with a worried look on his face.

“Dean’s not going to get in trouble because I told you. Is he, Alpha?”

John sighed and ruffled Sam’s head through the open window. “No, Sammy, You’ve both been really good boys today. But now I need to go back up to the room for a minute and find that bag.”

He fought to keep the worry off his face, not wanting to leave his boys alone for a second. But he had a good idea of the places Dean would be most likely to squirrel it away, so it shouldn't take but a couple minutes.

“Look, you stay here with Dean in the car. I know it’s kind of warm, but I want you to keep all the windows rolled up until I get back. And don’t roll them down or open the doors for anybody.

“Got it, Buddy.”

Sam nodded, eyes huge, face serious. “Yes, Alpha.”

John didn’t know how much, if any, clue Sam had about what all was going on, but he did know he was going to have to have a long and uncomfortable chat with his youngest once they got to Bobby’s. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to go through something like this twice.

He watched Sam carefully roll the window up. After double checking the locks on the doors were secure, he charged up to their vacated room once more, taking the steps to the landing two at a time.

Sam hummed quietly to himself as he stroked Dean’s sweaty forehead. His gaze alternating every few moments from his brother’s sleeping face to the staircase their father had disappeared into.

He was worried about Dean, but calmed by the fact their alpha daddy was there now: everything was going to be all right.

Dean was sick, but now he was resting, and alpha promised in a few days he would feel much better. Plus, they were going to Uncle Bobby’s and Sam liked staying there. Bobby’s beta scentlessness was soothing: peaceful for him, since he felt sometimes like his nose didn’t work right and that made a lot of the world confusing.

Like today. He knew Dean’s scent had changed and he knew their sire had found it displeasing, but to Sam, Dean just smelled more like Dean… Right in a way that his brother hadn’t quite smelled before.

Sam was so lost in his thoughts about smells, he didn’t notice the car that pulled up beside the Impala. There were two men in the car, their angry voices muffled by the rolled windows.

 

* * *

“That was stupid, Eldon, I thought you said it was a good investment. Now we owe Alastair twice as much. You know, he said he was going to send someone after us before. What do you think the bastard’s going to do to us now?”

Eldon frowned at his brother Jacob and opened the door to slip out.

“It was a good investment; the timing was just a bit off. And don’t worry; another opportunity will present itself at the right time to make things even with Alastair.”

He stepped out of the car and suddenly went ridged, nostrils flaring, Eldon sniffed the air in huge gulps.

Jacob slid out of the passenger side. “What’s wrong with you, Brother… Oh…”

Both alphas turned and looked at the Impala they’d parked next to.

“You see?” Eldon’s voice was smug. “Opportunity.”

The pair moved around, so their gaze wasn’t so obvious, in case the little omega in the back noticed them.

“He’s pierced and collared… One’s a promise collar. That could cause some problems.”

“So we leave him… He’s not ripe yet, anyways. It’s the other one… fuck, he smells good.” Eldon drew a deep breath.

“All wrapped up for us, like the perfect little package, not a piercing or a collar visible.” Jacob chuckled. “Any alpha or beta irresponsible enough to leave their property lying around like that, unattended, deserves to be taught a lesson.”

“So, how do you want to work this?”

“Anything of importance left in our room?”

“No, everything was cleared out this morning.”

“Well, I don’t see any reason to extend our stay an extra night now, do you?”

Eldon laughed now. “No, not when we could go straight to Alastair’s and pay him off in full.”

Jacob' s eyes narrowed. "As good as that little lamb smells, I imagine that we’re going to need at least one detour.”

“Occasionally, Jacob, you actually have a good idea.” Eldon's pants had grown tight the second he'd smelled omega heat.

Jacob snorted at his brother’s jibe. “Well, here’s another good idea, you get your ass in gear and try and get the little one to open the door. I’ll keep a lookout for their owner meantime, and take care of the tires.”

“And if Cutie won’t open the door?”

 “Then it’s a straight smash and grab.” Jacob rolled his eyes. "And you think _I'm dense_..."

Eldon watched Jacob pull a switchblade from his jacket pocket and flip it open. There was a reason he kept his brother around. Jacob crouched down and slipped along the backside of the car.

While Jacob did this, Eldon popped the trunk. He stripped off his own jacket and pulled out a tire iron. It was always prudent to be prepared.

He held it down low to his side, as he approached the window. Pulling on his best smile he tapped gently on the glass. When large hazel eyes swiveled his way, Eldon made a cranking motion with his hand indicating that the boy should crack the window.

He frowned when the little omega stared blankly back at him. God, these creatures... fun to fuck, but so stupid. He widened his smile.

“Honey, your alpha sent me to fetch you. He needs your help...”

* * *

 

John stepped out the door of the room shaking his head. It had taken him a few minutes longer than he expected. His little hunter had taken off the grate of the air vent somehow and stuck the bag in there.

His head shot up when he heard the sound of breaking glass.

He’d almost reached the stairs when he heard Sam screaming. “Leave my brother alone! You can’t take him!”

Flying down the stairs John hit the bottom just in time to see a gray Honda Accord tearing out of the lot.

Racing around to the driver’s side of the Impala he threw the door open and himself in. He turned the car on and kicked it into reverse. It was only after he put the gas to the mat that his ear registered the scrape of rims on asphalt.

He jumped out of the car, engine still running only to see all four of the Impala’s tires had been slashed. Falling to his knees, John's throat opened and the roar of alpha anguish that poured forth was enough to set even demons trembling.

 


	2. Four Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a very internal chapter. My apologies if you find it boring, but next chapter things will really pick up and it will be from Sam's POV.

Beneath the brim of his straw hat Dean’s bangs dripped with sweat. Soaked through early that morning before he'd even made it from the barn to the field, the overlarge, threadbare shift he wore stuck to the skin of his aching back.

Squinting across the rows, he noted Alpha Zachariah heading his way, making his rounds. Dean glanced at the worn wooden bushel next to him, only half full. His heart rate immediately sped up.

Dropping his eyes back to the leafy greens in front of him, he adjusted his grip on his harvesting knife and severed another head of lettuce. His mind flashed with dark thoughts as he tossed it into the basket.

_If only I could do the same thing to Alpha Z so easily._

This was far from the first time he had entertained such a fantasy. Surrounded by omegas, most, visibly in various stages of pregnancy, he knew he was wasn’t the only one. But he also knew too well how futile such imaginings were, and what the consequences would be.

If it weren’t for the fact Sam had just recently (and miraculously) showed back up in his life, he might have attacked Zachariah, regardless, and just put an end to things for both the alpha and himself.

With a shake of his head Dean pushed these thoughts from his mind: useless ruminations, they weren’t going to help him meet his quota.

With a quiet groan, he reached for the basket and pulled it closer, gritting his teeth when his back threatened to spasm at the change in position. One hand on the bushel handle, the other holding the harvesting knife and his seven-month swollen belly, Dean shifted on his knees crawling further down the row.

Heavy and stained, hanging well below his pendulous belly, all dragging in the dirt, the front of his shirt just as wet as his back, just not with sweat.

Kept bred up since his first pup, he’d never stopped making milk.

Despite the near-constant leaking of his chest, normally he didn’t make enough to merit more than the compulsory morning milking. Today, however, his pecs felt so tight he imagined, if his alpha overseers were paying attention this would soon change.

As much as he hated the milking machines, Dean kind of hoping they’d notice. Lately his nipples had been so sensitive every brush of his shift was agony. The horrible suction of the milkers always hurt like hell at first, but by the time they finished they left his puffy nubs numb for hours after. 

A sharp rock bit into his knee as he crawled. Dean gave a low hiss at the sting but kept moving.

There had been a time in his life when he might have felt a flush of humiliation, scrabbling along the ground like an animal, but more than four years has passed since he’d been taken. He’d now spent a quarter of his young life with a belly full of litter. And he had learned a long-time back in the hardest of ways, pride only meant pain.

Besides, in the hierarchy of indignities he’d endured since he’d presented, crawling hardly even merited a mention.

“Come on bitches! Pick up the pace!” Zachariah shouted over the buzz of insects. He punctuated the command with a flash of the ever-present bamboo switch he carried and the yelp of the unfortunate omega closest to him.

Dean didn’t rise and walk in an attempt to go more quickly as he shifted down the row, but he did try to hurry.

His knee throbbed where it struck the rock, and the extended crawling set the spawn he carried kicking enough to crack ribs. Neither of these, however, were anywhere near the pain he’d feel if his hobbled feet were forced to bear the weight of his bred body.

“I don’t want to see any slacking!”

Alpha Zachariah’s cane found the backside of another boy, so heavily pregnant he looked like he should be in the birthing barn and not out in the field. The omega’s dingy dress immediately sported a thin crimson line where the rod fell.

“Exercise is important to a healthy pupping and I know you omega cunts would laze around all day without an alpha to properly motivate you!”

As Zachariah circled closer, the humid Arkansas air around Dean seemed to grow thicker.  Swallowing hard, his throat constricted. Lungs, already compressed by the pups he carried, it was suddenly hard to pull enough breath.

Fighting these sensations only caused his panic to mount. Dean closed his eyes against the dizziness that seized him because, regardless of his condition, passing out under Zechariah's watch, rather than reprieve it was only likely to bring punishment.

Hands moving automatically he continued to harvest, hoping the motions would pull his mind out of its panic. Quietly he worked to pull air in through his nose, exhale slowly from his mouth like his father had showed him.

His father had taught him a lot of tricks regarding panic: hunters confronted terrifying things and needed to keep their minds clear if they were to survive. If he could have, Dean would have told his dad now that the world was filled with things far more fearful than ghosts.

Thinking about his parental alpha stirred a new ache in Dean’s chest.

_Four years…_

Despite how shuffled around he’d been, Dean still thought their alpha should have found him and Sam by now.

 _Would have, if he wanted to..._ A voice in his head whispered. After all, how many times had he heard tracking was in John Winchester’s blood, made up his marrow?

Rarely these days did Dean allow himself to think about his father. It simply hurt too much to indulge in and always ended in that hopeless sense of worry that maybe something terrible had happened to him. It was a pain he’d lived with for so long now and that never seemed to dull.

_Why else wouldn't he have come?_

Dean’s tears and sweat mixed in his eyes. The salt of them stung.

 _Fucking hormones…._ It was an easy lie to tell himself.

His thoughts slipped into even darker territory. _Yeah, fucking omega hormones._

The expression on his alpha's face that last day... He was supposed to present as an alpha. Dean's face burned with shame and more tears fell, remembering how his dad had found him, weak and weeping. Slick seeping out of his ass, begging like dog.

Before that day he'd often caught the subtle looks of disappointment the man flickered over at their obviously omega Sammy. He'd saw too that Sammy hadn’t been anywhere near as oblivious about it as he’d seemed.  So Dean had done everything in his power to keep them protected from each other.

_For all the good did you… bending over backwards to be the perfect son. I bet alpha knew what you were, that instead you should have been bending forward, ass in the air like the bitch you are._

Within Dean’s mind a cruel voice hissed ever-louder in his ear that _nothing_ had happened their father.

_No, nothing at all._

Likely why he hadn’t ever shown up to save them was simply that their alpha just couldn’t bear the shame of having two omega offspring. If he planned to keep hunting he'd have been better off to just cut his losses and be free of the burden.

Dean lifted his head and stole a glance at Sam six rows over. Despite being on the skinny side, the kid looked good and seemed to be having no problems keeping up. In fact, like everything he invested in, Sam had excelled, already becoming a favorite with the overseers by proving to be an excellent worker.

It was hard for Dean to look away and get back to the harvest. He worried one of these times he'd seek Sam out only to find he'd been dreaming.

Three years without Sam had hurt Dean more than losing his alpha, if he was honest. Looking up from the lunch line that noon three weeks ago, seeing his little brother roll off the stock truck, had been both the best and the worst day of his life.

When they'd been separated after Allistair's house, Dean had cherished the fantasy that at least their alpha had maybe found Sam. He could have dealt with that, understood his father saving Sammy and leaving him wherever he’d landed.

Only the basest would take an omega before it presented: fucking an omega before it’s first heat almost always left it sterile. So there'd be a good chance John could recover Sam and even if it had taken some time he'd still be reasonably pure.

Him on the other hand... Well Dean been taken young but he wasn’t stupid. His childhood had been lived in a hard world and he knew his father would have no illusion about what fate had quickly befallen his newly presented son. 

Yeah, he'd been in heat when he and Sammy were stolen

And less than an hour after leaving town he’d been ruined.

Through blurry eyes Dean watched his tears fall, drops adding to the condensation dewed on the green leaves in his hands. Heat or not, omega or not, he'd been trained to be a hunter and the ease with which they'd reduced him was a disgrace. It had left him...

_Tainted..._

_Worthless..._

A wave dark as Alpha Zachariah's heart washed over him and in that moment, Dean longed to just let the harvesting knife slip, to add his fouled blood to the rich, black soil.

Gaze caught on the tarnished steel blade in his hand, he was mesmerized until a soft whistle caught his ear. Dean lifted his head and glanced to the side. Three omegas over now, Sam’s eyes caught his own. Far too young to have a forehead sporting so many wrinkles, his baby brother stared at him worriedly.

Hurriedly Dean swiped a sleeve across his eyes before fully meeting Sam’s. When he did, he made sure to give his brother a snort and an exaggerated eye-roll, hoping this would be enough to tell Sammy he was fine. That he should leave his ridiculously hormonal brother to mope and pay attention to his own work.

His heart started racing when the pig-headed brat instead made a soft clicking noise and caught the attention of the boy next to him. Moments later, a silent shuffling of the line had occurred and before he knew it Dean found Sam beside him.

It had been a terrible risk for Sam to take. But was closest they'd been since Sam arrived, Dean making a conscious effort to minimize their contact as much as possible, downplay any connections.

Attachment was a weapon here the alphas loved to use. Not to mention he’d earned himself a bad reputation that he sure as hell didn’t want associated with Sam.

Fortunately Alpha Z had been too busy beating a wiry redheaded omega more than a dozen rows over to notice Sam’s shuffle. The color of the tag in the ear of the boy suffering Z’s wrath indicated he wasn’t currently knocked up and Dean spared about two seconds to wonder if this meant their alpha overseer would bend Red over and fuck him or just make the kid suck him off after the beating.

He didn’t bother to find out, instead, he turned his attention back to his idiot brother. He growled softly to let Sam know how stupid he’d been to shift spaces. Breaking rules led to blood. Or worse.

Beneath the wide brim of his own hat Sam not only ignored him, but had the balls to flash him an almost cheerful, cheeky grin. This made Dean growl louder. The sound cut off immediately when, to his even greater dismay, Sam began to quickly deposit lettuce from his own basket into his.

Dean’s cheeks flushed in humiliation. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t an alpha, he was the oldest. He was the one who should be the one taking care of Sam, not the other way around.

At the fourth head Sam tried to put into his basket, Dean slapped his hands. In any other circumstance he would have probably found the pout this produced endearing, but right now, this was survival. Sam turned away in a silent huff and fell back to working on his own harvest but not before giving Dean a look that said this wasn't over yet.

The conviction in Sam's eyes shocked Dean and he was left wondering when his wee omega brother had grown so brash. Then staring at his little brother's back he was reminded of how much Sammy had grown up in their years apart. He couldn't fathom that last month, his sweet brat would have just turned twelve.

_Twelve..._

When the realization hit him, Dean couldn't keep a low whine from spilling from his throat.

Right now, the tag Sam bore still declared him un-presented and so, still off limits as such. But studying his brother now, Sam looked sturdier than most omegas his age, even with their carefully measured rations. And Dean hadn't realized until his baby brother had drawn so close to him today that they were almost the same height.

Yeah, Sam was twelve: old enough and big enough his first heat could hit him any day if his body followed the same timeline Dean’s had,

The weight in Dean’s swollen belly felt heavier than ever, wondering how much longer before _it_ happened and the color of the tag in his little brother’s ear would match his own.

Unwanted flashbacks from his first and subsequent breedings flickered movie-like in his mind.

Dean blinked back the furious new tears that filled his eyes. With every ounce of his being he prayed to any god that would listen for Sam to somehow escape this fate. He was seized with a sense of hopelessness he stared angrily at his belly. As he was right now, if it happened today... tomorrow... there was no way he could do anything to stop it.

_Another epic fail by Winchester the worthless, better known as omega 377564D  
_

The pups in his guts gave a wince-worthy kick as if in agreement. Dean silently snarled at  them. The little fuckers were probably all going to be alphas, this lot. None of his other litters had abused his womb with their near constant kicking the way these monsters did.

“Pick it up there, Bitches!” Finished with the redhead, Zachariah had returned to stalking the rows.

 _God damn alphas,_ Dean thought when another internal jolt made him gasp. But like the “good” omega he’d been broken to be, he followed even his unborn alphas’ urging and returned to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been going through my draft folder and an slowly finishing all my half done chapters. 
> 
> Only took me a year and a half to update. My goal for the next chapter is update in only half this amount of time...
> 
> Man, I hope I'm only kidding there.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


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